


The Killing Moon

by MaJackles



Series: Summer of Song 2015 [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 11:22:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4827251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaJackles/pseuds/MaJackles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little slice of Purgatory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Killing Moon

**Author's Note:**

> I have tried to write outside my normal box for most of these Summer of Song one shots and this one is no different. Inspired by the song "The Killing Moon" by Echo & The Bunnymen. You can listen to it here: https://youtu.be/_lno7TnSL54

She knew hunting. Hell, she had been born into it. A family of hunters. Joined the military right out of high school. Then, turned one fateful night into the ultimate hunter. She knew hunting and she had never seen anything like him.

 

He was rage and control.

 

Power and grace.

 

Sinful but pure.

 

She couldn't keep her eyes off of him.

 

In this place of eternal struggle and death, only the strong survive. You learn to kill or be killed. You learn how to survive or give yourself up to one who can end it for you.

 

She was a survivor. She was good at what she did. Been here so long, she'd lost track of how long it had been. You don't have time to count the days. Nothing new really ever happened here. Days turned to night and back to day. They blurred together. You only ever thought of surviving the day, the hour, the minute.

 

But something new had happened. Word was spreading of something new in the forest. Something never before seen here. A human. No one was sure how it happened and no one really had time to care. It seemed everyone wanted to get a look at him. There must be something special about him to warrant a trip to this hellish place. To Purgatory. Once someone did get a look at him, it seemed it was the last thing they ever saw.

 

His legend grew. The human was a force to be reckoned with. His will to survive, incredible. The stories soon became things of legend. They finally piqued her interest. Surely the stories of his abilities were a thing of fiction. Surely a human couldn't survive in this hell for more than a few hours at the most. It became a challenge to see who would be the one to knock the human off his pedestal.

 

Unlike those foolish idiots who went rushing to their deaths, she found him and watched him from a distance.

 

The stories were true. He was born to be here just as much as the rest of them. Watching him was like watching art come to life. He had adapted to his new environment like a fish to water. They say he made his first kill with his bare hands. Watching him, that first day, she believed it.

 

He was glorious and she found herself watching him, not to discern a way to defeat him, but to revel in his majesty. At first, watching him fight, she saw the technical side of every move. Every shift of his weight. Every flash of the eyes. There was purpose to every movement. Nothing wasted. Then as the days turned to weeks, she found herself watching not the technical side of his movements, but the artistry of them. He was fluid. Moving through the forest like a tsunami. Unstoppable and yet beautiful in his destructive power.

 

It became clear that he seemed to be on some sort of mission and nothing would stop him from reaching it's end. To see something in these woods with any sense of direction, mission, goal... it was refreshing and enlightening. She found herself without direction. To survive was no mission. The more she watched him, the closer she wanted to be. She would end this meaningless existence in his arms. She determined that this would be her mission.

 

What was her life? Killing. Day and night. She may be a survivor, but only because she had been lucky enough not to meet those stronger than herself. She was tired, she realized. Tired of the killing. Of the meaningless wandering.

 

If you were strong enough, here in this hell, you could, in all essence, live forever. If living is what you wanted to call this. The bonus to living forever is that you got to choose the time of your demise. Your end. She had decided she was done. She was ready to lay down the claws. The fangs. The knives. She would give herself to him.

 

The time of her choosing was now. He crouched at the river's edge, drinking. They were alone.

 

“I can smell your disgusting stench. I know you're there. Come out.” His voice was gravel.

 

She stepped out of her cover.

 

“You've been following me for weeks. Why now?”

 

“I'm done. No more. Take me.” She walked over and gave herself to him. She knelt at his feet and tipped her head back, revealing her neck.

 

He stepped over and grabbed her hair in his fist, placing the edge of his blade to her throat. “Why? I don't understand.”

 

“You don't need to, nor should you want to.” She closed her eyes, waiting for the killing time.


End file.
